


That's Not How the Story Goes

by Ending_Daley



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6246859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ending_Daley/pseuds/Ending_Daley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire Dearing finds herself in a bit of a predicament after a one night stand with Owen Grady. For Claire, there is only one option.</p><p>There is a Trigger Warning on this fic for abortion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's Not How the Story Goes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Millie (amelias-obsessions) and her dream of Owen and Claire sleeping together after their bad date, and Claire ending up pregnant. It’s a story with a twist. Which leads me to the trigger warning: this fic contains an abortion. I didn’t write it, but it happened. 
> 
> Do not read if it’s not your thing.
> 
> Inspired by the film ‘Obvious Child’. 
> 
> I also set this fic a little earlier. 5 years before the events of Jurassic World.

Claire fell into her bed with a slight groan. What made her think a date with Owen Grady could possibly go _well._ She’d been blinded by the idea of thick muscle, and spellbound by an overbearing demonstration of masculinity. No one had ever taken her down in a swift blow as quickly as Owen had weakened her defences. 

She said yes on a curious blink, not missing the way his smile twitched, his heart clearly skipping a beat. It had been endearing how his nerves morphed into uncontainable excitement. It, however, was not enthralling on the day, at all. Where she expected an overeager man-child, dressed to the nines, hands sweating around flowers. She got Owen ten minutes late and wearing board shorts. 

Claire sat through it. She wanted to give him a chance, allow for the nerves to settle and the smooth Owen she knew to return. Somewhere before the end of the night, he recovered, just slightly. He was only a shadow of his usual self, but it had been enough. 

She didn’t know who moved first. Someone did. Without realising, although it felt as though the thought had dawned on her at some point, between the decision to climb into his car, and seductively leading him down the hall of his bungalow. 

Laughter echoed in her head. There was laughter. She distinctly remembered laughing. Deep belly, whole body humour that kept her neck exposed to his lavish attentions. Claire tucked herself into the thick covers of her duvet, trying not to think of the tender way he held her, the large man far more gentle than she could have imagined.

She half wished that she had taken him up on his offer of tequila. At least then she wouldn’t have the ghost of his fingers trailing across her back, in thick and vivid memory. That way she would have forgotten the forbidden things about him. And the way she had become obsessed with the crease of his hip. Her hand lingering on mysterious lines until he pulled it away. She was drawn to the spot, one hand clutched to his back, while the other pressed half moons into the edge of his iliac crest. 

She groaned into her sheets, skin still sticky and stiff, as she held the pillow tight over her head. She needed to forget. The sooner it was out of her head the quicker they could move on. Although the sex had been something close to earth shattering, their date had proved they were nothing but destructive and incompatible people. They weren’t going to work. They couldn’t base a relationship off sex, not that she would argue if he wanted to. She just _didn’t_ want to. He had all the signs of wrapping her heart into neat little bows before breaking it so atrociously it would take years to find all the pieces. 

Showering was half nightmare as she discovered small marks across her skin. Slight love bites under her breasts, and one on her hip. She only rolled her eyes, mentally adding them to the list of reasons why Owen Grady was bad for her. She could smell him on her skin, the sent stubborn against her soap, impossible to remove like red wine on crisp white bedsheets. Closing her eyes Claire tried to trade the memories of her fingers in his hair, for how badly he infuriated her. It didn’t help. A fire built in her belly, the urge to call him as strong as her will to breathe. 

Forehead pressed against the cool tile Claire urged herself to forget about it and move on. She’d done it before. Admittedly, the last time she had a one night stand, it wasn’t with someone she had to see on the island. Regardless, it worked then, and she could make it work now. He’d be back to annoying her in a few days, his cocky ignorance nothing more than a nuisance. Or so she prayed. 

*

A few weeks later… 

 

Zara had thrown a new blouse at her. Something about the investor liking blue, was the explanation on her lips. Claire wasn’t below changing her outfit for an afternoon in order to hit a man’s weakness. So long as his hip pocket bled Claire could be happy. Zara peered around the corner when Claire hissed loudly.

‘You okay?’ Claire nodded, palming her chest quizzically. She had barely grazed her chest in order to button her blouse, and yet there was a tenderness there she wasn’t used to. Enough that she accidentally hissed her discomfort a little too loud. ‘Maybe you’re pregnant,’ The comment was meant as a joke, as Zara shrugged her shoulders, nonchalant. 

For Claire, the world zeroed in. Dates ticking in her head, before landing on a realisation. She couldn’t find the energy to shake her head. Zara disappeared just ask quickly as her words had slammed into Claire. She was breathless all of a sudden, the same sort of panicked need for air that she used to get as a young teen. Anxiety. Claire gasped for breath, doing so quietly as she clutched a hand to her chest, back against a wall as she slid down it. Her body hit the floor with a jolt, caught in shell shock for a second before Zara rushed back in. 

‘Mr Santoni is here …’ She trailed off, stoping in her tracks as her eyes fell downwards upon her boss. Claire’s eyes were on her hands, sitting atop the knees that were pressed to her chest, and even then she could see Zara compose herself. 

It’d been a long time since Claire had a panic attack, so long her assistant seemed a little stumped. She could hear Zara’s mind ticking, desperate to piece together the clues of Claire’s trigger. Her hands twitched at her sides; she had come up short. 

‘I can’t cancel this meeting, Claire.’ Zara’s voice was soft, as she crouched next to her, hand gentle on Claire’s shoulder. There had been a few instances, since Jurassic World opened, that Claire Dearing found herself unable to breathe. Zara always knew what to do, and quickly. Enough that Claire was back to her working self in seconds. 

Claire blinked, where she had been lost two seconds earlier, she had returned to her usual causal business self. She stood, abruptly, fighting off the dizzy spell that overwhelmed her. ‘Where is he?’ 

‘Conference Room C.’ Zara nodded towards the door. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, Claire?’ Claire nodded, hands skating down her front. It was a thin lie but enough that Zara let her go. There wasn’t anything the other woman could do anyway. Santoni was a big investor, and he was there, at the park. If Claire didn’t meet with him there would be hell to pay. 

The second her appointment with Santoni was done, her ears ringing with the promise of fat checks, Claire headed straight for the door. She didn’t stop to consult Zara on her whereabouts, or the practicality of holding her calls. Claire simply left. 

On island facilities, in the most, were low. They had a four first aid clinics scattered about the park in the busy areas, mainly there for heat stroke and scraped knees. Not only would the staff in these marquees know who she was, but they would be incapable of helping her. So Claire did the only thing she could. She boarded the ferry. 

From her spot on the middle deck, she chewed her thumb, gnawing at her cuticles as two children ran circles around each other a few feet away. It was either them, or the rocking of the ferry that was making her nauseous, her head spinning slightly as she tried her hardest to focus on the third child of the family, snuggled against his mother’s lap. It only made her feel worse. 

There were days, when she was a little girl, where Claire would play with her dolls and treat them all as babies. She would insist each and everyone had been fed before she put them to bed in Karen’s room. Her sister always recalled that memory in her arguments against Claire’s biological clock. ‘ _You were so maternal when you were little, what changed?’_

Nothing changed. Not as far as Claire had known, or not as far as she would acknowledge. Karen had always suspected it had something to do with their mother dying before Claire’s eighteenth birthday. Claire forked it off to time, she didn’t have any of it. Her main concern was work. More specifically, the park. It had only been open for five years, barely picking it’s feet up off the ground. They had steady margins to meet, and innovative programs to start. It was only the beginning. She didn’t have time for a family when she had the park to oversee. 

Her stomach churned. The wait impossible. The children had stopped running in circles, suddenly bored of that easily playful task. Instead, they’d changed to hitting each other, disturbing their little brother, and frustrating their mother. Her stomach flopped again. Foot tapping against the linoleum flooring, impatient for the ferry to berth. 

She’d been on that ferry a countless amount of times. Never once had she been so hyper aware of every mother with a baby or toddling child. The world shook under her, ground uneven as the transport ship gently rocked in the waters below their feet. Suddenly she was claustrophobic, waiting in line to disembark, people all around her. A toddler, sat on his mother’s hip, grinned at Claire from the woman’s shoulder. Her stomach flipped, unease trying to settle as bile rose in her oesophagus. 

Claire looked away, squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. It hadn’t been confirmed yet. She wasn’t even sure. Just a few telltale signs and Zara’s unintentional comment. She tried to school herself, shaking her head softly. She wasn’t pregnant. She couldn’t be.

Everything melded into one action once her heels hit asphalt. Claire focused on the rhythmic clack as she found her secondary car in the long term lot. She kept her head down at the pharmacy, unable to look the register clerk in the eye as she slid a boxed pregnancy test across the counter. 

Her father owned a condo in Costa Rica. Claimed it was his retirement location - the new Florida - which coincidentally coincided with Masrani Global’s job offer. Mike Dearing only waved his daughter off when she assured him she would be fine in Central America on her own. He promised it had nothing to do with wanting to be close to his baby daughter. Karen had rolled her eyes when she heard, clicked her tongue and shook her head. ‘ _Typical dad.’_ Despite Claire’s independence, he was always close by. 

The condo was quiet when she stepped through the door, Claire peeking around corners to check the occupant wasn’t home. Alone for the moment, she slipped into the bathroom, nervous hands shaking as she fiddled with the box. 

She set the timer for three minutes. _Three minutes_. Claire stared at the wall, arms crossed over her chest, willing whatever God was out there to take pity on her. She was just late, that was all - maybe she was a little more stressed than usual. Her period would turn up any day now. 

The timer on her phone sounded, some obnoxiously happy jingle breaking through her subconscious. She flinched, breath rushing out of her lungs as Claire pinched her nose before peering at the stick. 

She only looked for a second, her answer plain and clear in the little window. Bile rose in her throat, she couldn’t hold it back this time, instead she had to let it go, knees cracking against the bathroom tiles as she bowed at the toilet bowl. There was no audible response, no swear to bounce off tiled walls, just the sound of Claire dry reaching as her body physically reacted. 

It felt like hours, sitting against the bathroom wall, too spent to pull herself up. She was happy to sit on the floor, the room around her small, her thoughts restricted. ‘Claire-Bear?’ Her father’s voice called out for her, slightly curious. He would have seen her car on the curb. He knew she was there. She jumped slightly, caught off guard by his voice, but unable to move. It was seconds before he found her. ‘Oh, baby girl, what’s wrong?’ She could see the worry settle over his features easily, as he moved for her without thought. 

Claire whimpered at the touch of her father’s hand to her forehead, the man’s kind and caring eyes watching over her. He had always been there. No matter what. Even when she insisted that she didn’t need him. 

She crumbled against his affection, allowing him to help her up and pull her into the living room. The man puttering on about her having a temperature and _‘That’s so unlike you, Claire-Bear. You were never sick’._ She was quiet, let him dote on her, familiar throw rug tucked around her shoulders before he disappeared into the kitchen. 

Her heart pounded when he returned, herbal tea in his hands. She had to tell him. She couldn’t let the worry linger. He would only force it out of her later. ‘Dad,’ She started, voice tired. He turned to her with a gentle smile, pushing the cup into her hands. ‘Dad,’ She gagged on her next words, unable to get them out. Her body trembled, mug in her hands threatening to spill. ‘I’m pregnant.’ She managed to choke out, the words slipping from her mouth to cut the air around them.

Mike stared at his daughter. A beat passed between them before he sighed in relief, slight chuckle slipping from his lips. Claire didn’t blame him. He always assumed the worst when something was wrong with her or Karen. Their mother had died of cancer, and his biggest fear was loosing his daughters the same way he had lost his wife. Nothing was dramatic compared to that. 

‘Are you okay?’ Was his first question, hand reaching out to stroke her cheek. She felt like a little girl, her head pressed to his hand as she nodded softly. The same comfort and security from her youth, reignited in a single touch. 

Claire sucked in a deep breath. ‘Just caught unawares.’ She watched something shimmer in his eyes, and knew without question what it was. He wanted to know who’d gotten his daughter pregnant, just as he had wanted to punch Karen’s prom date for ditching her at the dance. ‘I have an appointment at the clinic in the morning.’ She told him quietly, it was unspoken that she would stay the night in his spare room that was practically hers anyway. 

‘Do you know what you want to do?’ He asked her quietly, well aware that his daughter not only had options in this century, but was not one-hundred per cent enthralled with the idea of starting her own family. Unlike his eldest daughter, Mike Dearing held no expectation over Claire and children. 

She folded, bottom lip curling as it begun to wobble. ‘I can’t have a baby, Dad.’ He didn’t question her. There was no motive that wasn’t sound. He had known his daughter her whole life, and that alone had taught him that she knew when to take charge and what was best for her. He kissed her temple softly, trying to hold back the turmoil that was, without doubt, surging in her mind.

* 

‘Are you sure that’s your final decision?’ The doctor asked her, watching Claire’s face carefully. She nodded briskly, reaffirming that she had thought it over. She didn’t need brochures and information sessions, she didn’t need to wait any longer with the heavy feeling in her gut. 

‘You’re at three weeks, which for us, is too early to undergo an in-clinic procedure. We can schedule you in two weeks from today, which makes it February 14th.’ 

Claire winced, ‘Valentine’s Day?’ She didn’t have any plans, but surely there was an irony there. The doctor grimaced, apologising quickly before reaffirming it was the soonest date they had available. Claire nodded, ‘That’s it then. I’m getting an abortion on Valentine’s Day’. 

* 

‘I’m sorry for yesterday,’ Claire apologised, as Zara followed her into her office. ‘… And this morning. I just …’ 

Zara stopped her with a shrug, ’Your dad called, said you were caught up with a family emergency.’ Claire rolled her eyes, of course he did. ‘What’s really up?’ She should have known Zara would have seen right through it. The only family emergency Claire had ever rushed off for, involved her father being in the hospital. If the man had called, he was fine. 

Claire waved her off, ‘Nothing’. 

‘It’s not nothing, Claire.’ Zara retorted, back tracking on the previous day in explanation. Everything had been fine until Zara suggested Claire might have been pregnant. The woman’s eyes grew wide, staring at her boss as Claire took a seat behind her desk. Her head flicked back to check the door was closed before she spoke. ‘Oh my god, are you pregnant?’

Claire flinched, giving herself away as her skin paled and her eyes narrowed. 

‘You are!’ Her voice was a hushed shriek as she jumped slightly on the spot. ‘But, who …’ She stopped for a second. Zara knew just about everything in relation to Claire Dearing. She was her assistant after all.No date, good or bad, slipped past Zara unaware. ‘Owen Grady?!’ 

Claire shrunk in her chair, head in her hands hoping that the world would swallow her whole. Guilt instantly shrouded her. She hadn’t even thought of Owen. Not a single second of her panic had been filled with him. She blindly told Zara that it was unimportant, neither confirming nor denying despite the fact that her assistant knew she was right. Not only did Zara know about the date, but she had snuck down to Owen’s bungalow in the early hours of the morning to rescue her stranded boss. 

‘Are you going to tell him?’ Zara asked, when Claire finished telling her of her plan, nerves ticking at the ends of her fingertips. Claire shook her head, announcing a clear ‘no’ as Zara bit her lip. ‘Maybe you should … He might want to know.’ 

Claire shook her head again, ‘Its just a bunch of cells, nothing important’.

‘I know you think that date was a disaster, and I’m not questioning that. But, he _really_ likes you, Claire. He calls every day. _Every day_. Won’t get his paperwork finished on time, but he expects me to know whether your heart has thawed out enough to let him back in.’ Claire paled, her stomach flipping - it was becoming a regular uneasiness she was starting to get sick of. She really wanted to like Owen Grady and his self assured cockiness. She loved the way he made her laugh, and the slight flush on her cheeks at his innuendo. No one had ever gotten that reaction out of her. 

‘He wants to know if my _heart has thawed_ ,’ She groaned, rolling her eyes. Claire was certain she hated him. There were things she liked about him, _adored_ even, and then he would go and do something insensitive. 

Zara only shrugged, ‘He cares. You must have thought something of him too, enough to have unprotected sex … and on the first date. Like, c’mon, Claire. I’m not saying _“have his baby”_ I’m just saying, go talk to him. Put him out of his misery. Maybe you’ll feel a little better for it.’ Claire was fairly sure that she wouldn’t. 

* 

She tried to avoid thinking about Owen for days. So long it had turned into a week. There was no withholding it. She needed an asset update report, and he was yet to send his in. She had to see him, if not to pester him over the report and then leave. 

Claire was terrified that her secrets would spill out of her in a second flat. Owen was kind and gentle. Despite their bad date he had loved her tenderly, his hands on her were gentle, delicate, almost as though he was terrified she would break. Something in her chest yearned for that. The completed contradiction of a man born in the sun, so caring that the moon would let him grace her surface. 

She was caught up in JAG reruns, her father on the other end of the phone, her thumbnail once again between her teeth. ‘He’s nice … enough. A little self assured, but I think it’s just a front. He was in the Marines.’ She didn’t mean to tell her father that over the phone, his silence enough to tell her he was confused with the change of topic. ‘Would you want to know? … If it were Mom, before Karen and I. Would you want to know?’ 

The man on the other end of the line chuckled, ‘Claire-Bear you’ve never, in your life, asked me for advice.’ He wasn’t wrong, he had always done things on her own, never questioned the move, just steamrolled ahead. ‘I don’t know. You don’t owe him anything, Claire, just remember that.’ 

She let her father’s words sit heavy in the back of her mind, as she tried her best to move about the rest of her night. 

The following morning begun with a task set by Simon Masrani. He wanted Claire out on Main Street moving in and out with their patrons to better observe guest satisfaction, to feel it all first hand. She ordered herself a coffee, and something off the breakfast menu and cocooned herself in a small corner of the outdoor seating. No one would bother her there, or so she thought. 

‘Claire!’ The voice set the hairs on the back of her neck alight. Her heart skipped a beat as she dragged her eyes up to meet that of Owen Grady’s smiling face. Something in her chest ached, contracting at the warm sight of him, as her stomach did a flip. 

She was caught in the corner, trapped, heart thudding in her chest. There was no other option but to face him. ‘You’re an impossible woman to catch,’ He sighed, dropping to the chair beside her, posture slouched. Claire watched him with wide eyes, trying not to reveal her panic as she gave the man a once over, appreciating the lean muscle on display. ‘I really think we should talk.’ 

Claire hummed, her eyes flickering away from his as he bought smooth green up to greet her. ‘Go ahead, Mr Grady.’ 

He made a noise, somewhere between a scoff and a cough, Claire couldn’t quite place it. ‘Mr Grady? Really?’ He stuttered, out of breath from half choking himself on her words. ‘Cut the crap, Claire. You can avoid me all you want, that’s fine - go ahead. But, I wanted to apologise. I know that date was nowhere near what it should have been. I have plenty of excuses, but they don’t matter now. I’m just sorry that it was a mess.’ 

‘You don’t need to apologise,’ 

‘Yeah, I don’t. But, I am. I don’t know what it is, Claire, but I really like you. I mean _really_ like you.’ She turned towards him, throat closing at the gentle look on his face. He could have been on his knees, hands clasped, begging for a second chance. She saw him as too strong to beg, an Alpha, the lead of his pack who could have anyone he wanted. And there he was, sitting beside her, green eyes warm, face soft, apologising for a bad date that had happened a month ago. 

She felt guilty for avoiding him for that long. For thinking that any interaction between them would be awkward and uneasy. Her heart was still jumping in her chest, her secret ticking down the days in her head. She had to tell him. 

‘You can buy me lunch,’ She offered, soft smile pulling at her lips. Owen’s eyes flicked towards her empty plate, pushed to the end of the table. She had just eaten, but if she was offering him another chance, he was going to take it. 

Discussion flowed easily. Far less tense than what it had been when they had attempted a date. Owen lead the discussion, asking Claire about college, and her life before Jurassic World. There was no need to start on the present. 

Mentally she was working up the courage to tell him. She had already apologised for slipping out his bungalow before he woke. Admitting that maybe she should have stayed. Clearly, they spoke better in a relaxed environment rather than a tense one. Owen only brushed the comment off, reassuring that there was no need to apologise. Claire repeated her words anyway. 

There was a soft side to Owen Grady, a side she only caught when the sun shone a certain way, it being a Tuesday, with slight rainfall the night before. She had tried to hold off her protective barricades, and he had done the same.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, her mouth poised to say them when his hand flew out, fingers wrapping around her wrist gently as he nodded to something on the busy street. ‘Look at that,’ He told her, fond smile growing wide, his heartbeat almost visible with his clear admiration.

Her own heart caught in her throat, the beat pounding erratically at the touch of his fingers on her bare skin. She scanned the moving crowds, trying to pick up what he was trying to point out. ‘I can’t wait to be a dad,’ He sighed almost mystically, like the title alone held all the answers to the universe. Her chest contracted, bile rising in her throat as her eyes finally fell on what he was pointing at. It was a man, walking past them, one of his hands holding a plush dinosaur while the other held his little daughter, her head bobbing against his shoulder as she fought off sleep. 

‘Sorry,’ He shook his head, adoration settling in his eyes. ‘You were going to say something.’ Claire shook her head. The words suddenly gone as she suppressed her panic. 

*

She wanted to stop seeing him. It was only the odd occasion, a day or two in a row. The both of them passing each other in Command, or Owen simply dropping his report in. Her heart had fluttered each and every time, smile set loose just at his appearance. 

A small part of her felt guilty for not telling him. For taking something away from him that he clearly wanted. The sight of a man and his daughter had been so overwhelming for Owen, he felt the need to share it with her. She could almost imagine his reaction if he knew she was pregnant, and could imagine, in vivd detail his disappointment and anger toward the news of her termination. 

It was better if he didn’t know. 

Or, at least, that was what she had decided, mentally preparing herself to keep the secret. Until he had kissed her on the cheek, oh so delicately after they’d met for lunch a third time on Main Street. It all came tumbling out the second he pulled away, the words streaming like tears from her eyes. 

Owen stared at her, his face blank, expression unreadable. Claire suddenly felt small and cold, his touch gone from her arms, his kiss freezing a hole in her cheek. He turned, without a word, only a blink, and walked away from her. Claire didn’t bother calling out, chasing after him. There weren’t going to meet in the middle, and come to some amicable agreement. 

She stood, rooted to the spot for a second before she too broke away. There was no use lingering on his reaction now. Not when it was February 13th. 

*

Claire felt odd in relying on her father to take her to the clinic. It wasn’t something he should have had to do. ‘Are you sure about this?’ He asked, watching Claire as she stared glumly out the window, her hands wrapped around a coffee mug. ‘I know family doesn’t fit into your work life … but it could.’

She gave him a soft smile, nodding her head. ‘This isn’t forever, dad. I just need a little more time to breathe.’ She needed time to get her ducks in order, to ensure her mark had been made on Jurassic World, that the park could run smoothly without her. Just because she didn’t want to follow through with _this_ pregnancy, didn’t mean it was all out of the picture. Claire liked people … most people. Kids still made her a little nauseous. Maybe her view would be changed with the right person, the right relationship at a time where her position at the park wasn’t two years old. 

Claire stood out on the street once they were ready to leave, waiting for her father to lock the door before they moved for her car. ‘Ah … Claire-Bear,’ He stuttered eyes locked on something behind her. Raising an eyebrow at her father, Claire turned slowly, stopping only when she recognised Owen a few feet away, flowers in his hand. 

‘Owen,’ She breathed when he approached, awkwardly handing her the flowers. 

When she smiled his whole face lit up, ‘I, ah, was wondering if I could accompany you today. If that’s okay with you … and you.’ He looked to her father, the man a few steps away, watching his daughter with something akin to amusement. 

Mike nodded, taking the flowers from Claire with a promise to put them in water. He handed over the keys to her car to Owen, with a simple warning of, ‘You look after her’. Owen nodded, agreeing with the man so sincerely Claire couldn’t help but feel safe. 

He held her hand the whole way to the clinic, eyes on the road, radio playing between them. They sat awkwardly in the waiting room while Claire filled out her paperwork, Owen peering over her shoulder at intervals. ‘Oh, cancer, nice.’ He hummed, reading off the sheet. Claire blinked, mildly offended before he opened his mouth again. ‘Well,’ He puffed out his chest, ‘We Grady’s stem from a long line of heart failure, military inflicted PTSD, and twins.’ She giggled in response, actually giggled, shaking her head as she bumped his arm with her shoulder and went back to her page. 

When her name was called, he squeezed her hand tightly and kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ll be right out here when you’re done.’ She nodded, slowly letting go of his hand as she pulled away. 

* 

‘You know, this hasn’t been the worst Valentine’s ever,’ Owen told her as he settled two mugs down on the coffee table, before fitting himself into the couch. Claire hummed, still slightly out of it. ‘Do you want to put your legs up?’ She was curled up on the couch, legs taking up most of the space, retracted now, so he could sit. Claire nodded softly, uncurling herself from the foetal position she was comfortable in, her legs stretching out across his lap. 

Her father had disappeared. Owen’s flowers on the kitchen bench, with a note that Mike Dearing had gone finishing. Claire didn’t question it, he was giving them their space. 

Owen’s hand settled on her hip, thumb making small circles on the fabric, lulling Claire slightly. He cleared his throat. ‘When I said I wanted to be a dad, I didn’t mean now.’ He told her, trying to reach out to some inner conscious he knew she would have. Even if he said the words a week ago, he wanted to console the idea in her head. 

Claire hummed, ‘It would still be nice, you’d be good at it. You love those dinosaurs like children.’ He chuckled, squeezing her hip. _His girls_. Owen loved them like children. But it wasn’t the same. He wanted real flesh and blood, real little girls. He wouldn’t mind having daughters with Claire Dearing … when she was ready. Owen would wait a lifetime for that. 

‘You wanna watch a movie?’ He asked, reaching for the remote. Claire hummed again, her eyes half open when he looked over at her, nod half hearted. She wasn’t going to last through anything for long, so he flicked through the channels, knowing each station would have some hearty rom-com playing just for the day. 

She stretched a little further across his lap, body relaxing next to his as he settled into the movie and Claire settled into a content sleep. 


End file.
